Chapter Sixty-Two
Celebrations and Revels
Alya was sitting in a small parlor on the ground floor, enjoying the warm summer evening watching the bats and nightwebs chase each other over the shrubbery. She was wearing a simple dark dress, and her honey-colored hair was pulled back with a thong. She looked healthy, if dazed, but there was definitely something different about her, from the last time I’d visited. There was more Alya there.
It was in her most minute mannerisms that I saw it – those idiosyncratic gestures that tie our memory of someone’s personality to its image in your mind. The way she jerked her head, slightly, at noises. The way her eyes narrowed and widened. The way she sat. They were all different, now, more . . . Alya. Indeed, they reminded me more of Almina than anyone else.
Then she did something amazing. While watching two bats cavort with a nightweb, her head jerked up. Suddenly, her arm pointed skyward.
“Star!” she said, triumphantly.
I almost fainted at the sound of her voice. It was the first time I’d heard it in more than a year.
“That’s thirty-one,” Lilastien said, with satisfaction, from behind me. “They’re coming back to her on their own, but she’ll sometimes struggle, and appreciates help. And she’s remembering them,” she smiled, pleased. “She hasn’t started stringing them together, yet, but I’m hopeful that will start soon.”
“Does she recognize . . . anything?”
“We are not at that part of the journey, yet, I’m afraid,” she said. “We don’t have enough established vocabulary to say that, definitively. But the restructuring the Handmaiden is doing is remarkable. It was slow, at first, but she seems to be compounding her repairs, now.
“The return of verbal skills is a highly encouraging sign. She’s also become fascinated by smells and tastes. That’s good, because those senses are more intently tied to memory. Of course, she was sniffing the Tal maids, when they came to change the bedding this afternoon, and that was awkward . . .”
I smiled. “Thank you, Lilastien. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“I think I do,” she said, fondly. “You went into the underworld and rooted around amongst the dead, for that woman. A man doesn’t do that for an ordinary woman. A man doesn’t spit in the eye of Korbal the Necromancer, Demon God of the Mindens, unless he’s committed to her.”
“If this is a step toward her eventual recovery, then the effort was worth it.”
“And the sacrifice?” she asked.
“That raid changed a lot of things,” I pointed out. “We learned a lot. We did a lot of damage to Korbal’s war machine, pushed him to betray Sheruel prematurely, captured his consort, ruined his fortress, destroyed his access to his labs . . . I’d say we got away lightly,” I pointed out.
“Perhaps,” she frowned. “Then again, you haven’t been treating the casualties. And once Korbal consolidates power over the gurvani, he will not allow such an insult to stand,” she warned. “He has an ego to protect.”
“And I a kingdom,” I nodded. “We’re preparing, the best we can. If I can manage the human politics, we should be able to field a force of some size. We’re preparing strongholds,” I said, thinking about Pentandra’s nascent project, Vanador. “We’re strengthening our institutions.”
“Will that be sufficient?”
“Who knows? We do what we can. I’ve made some gains, recently. I’m feeling lucky. Perhaps we dashed Korbal’s anthill so thoroughly we won’t have to worry about him for a generation. One of mine, not one of yours,” I added.
“Perhaps,” Lilastien said, doubtfully. “I think he’ll be quicker to respond than that. One of the things the Enshadowed pride themselves upon is their decisiveness. They see the deliberations of the Council as meaningless politics. Korbal’s realm is an autocracy. As soon as he decides upon a policy, his folk will leap to enact it. Nor will he war on you through traditional means alone. You face the mind of an Alka Alon, now, Minalan, not merely a gurvan. It is by nature subtler and more cunning, and perhaps even more ruthless, in its way.”
“Yes, but he faces a human mage with great power and no idea what he’s doing,” I boasted. “That has sunk islands, before. Entire civilizations.”
“You make a fair point,” she chuckled. “Your race is ingenious at making trouble, accidentally or on purpose. I expect Korbal to approach the war as an Alkan, for all of his twisted perspective.”
“How do they differ?” I asked, realizing she was one of the few people on Callidore to actually have an informed opinion on the subject.
“Alka Alon typically rely on consensus, rather than leadership, when they approach a subject,” she said, thoughtfully. “Even our nominal rulers attempt to steer consensus, rather than declarative policies. Korbal might declare himself as sovereign, but he lacks a human’s tendency for independent action.
“That’s why your capture of his consort, Mycin, was so maddening for him: compared to humans, Alka Alon are highly co-dependent.”
“While interesting, I fail to see how we can use that to our advantage. He seems to have an entire cadre of Nemovorti competing to kiss his cold, dead arse.”
“Alka Alon warfare is also highly symbolic,” she continued. “Humans are far more practical when it comes to military objectives . . . but that doesn’t mean that Alka Alon are less destructive. Sometimes they’ll focus energies on a symbolic target to the exclusion of a practical one.”
“Well, that could be useful,” I conceded. “If I can just convince him that I’m symbolically invested in some nameless mountain, somewhere, we could avoid a lot of unpleasantness. Tell me, did you expect the Dradrien to take such an active role in his forces?”
“That’s actually a disturbing development,” she agreed. “The Dradrien are craftsmen, first and foremost, but their great strength and skill with metal make them cunning warriors. During the warring states period, some of the factions actively contracted with Dradrien or Karshak, as auxiliaries, but they found the former were treacherous and the latter unwilling to fight beyond self-defense.”
“So, what do a couple of hundred Dradrien heavy infantry on Olum Seheri mean?”
“They mean that the Enshadowed have found something they want, and they’re using it for leverage,” Lilastien sighed. “In the Enshadowed’s twisted philosophy, the Iron Folk are the true masters of all those you call dwarves and deserve their lordship. I’m assuming that they promised them rulership in that capacity.”
“I thought the long-lost seventh clan was supposed to be the royal clan?”
“Though it runs counter to their own people’s lore, all too many clans are willing to accept the validation of the Alka Alon, even renegades, that the Dradrien are masters of their race. When they could find no one with the wealth to command their wares, some clans have fought as mercenaries, back during the warring states period. Between their armor, their weapons, and their great strength, they were highly valued in the Alka Alon armies.”
“How did the other Alka Alon react to that?” I asked, curious.
“Not well,” she admitted, as she walked me back outside. “As I said, Alka society runs on consensus. If a leader cannot find other Alkans to join his consensus and follow his leadership, and must hire support, his arguments lose status.
“They tried to force a consensus at the point of a spear. The Enshadowed hired Dradrien auxiliaries, both to arm them and fight for them, just as they impressed their gurvan servants into soldiery. While effective, the Alka Alon look askance at such contracts. And,” she said, looking troubled, “the Dradrien seemed to . . . enjoy the work,” she said, looking squeamish. “Their presence at Olum Seheri is disturbing, particularly if Korbal has claimed active sovereignty. It has some deep political implications.
“But we’ll discuss that more at the new council,” she sighed. “Maybe with humans involved, we’ll be more prone to action than deliberation. Life with mortals is hasty, but so exciting,” she assured.
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nbsp; “We try to be entertaining,” I agreed. “It makes us feel useful. Keep me informed about Alya’s progress,” I said, anxiously. “And I suppose I’ll see you at the council.”
As excited as I was about Alya’s progress, I was careful to keep from getting too hopeful. Even after everything I’d been through, I knew too much about magic to expect instant results. Or even reasonably quick results. Some things just took time.
While I was waiting I had plenty to do – including being an Honored Guest at the Estasi Order of Mage Knight Errants official membership ceremony at Taragwen.
When Tyndal and Rondal had recruited warmagi for the raid on Olum Seheri, it had been an explicit audition for inclusion in their (so they styled it) prestigious order. Considering what those men had been through, honoring them thus was vital.
Sir Ganulan, the steward of the order, went to great lengths to execute a feast worthy of heroes. The hall being too small for all who could attend, he had the courtyard filled with trestles to feast them.
Two oxen were slaughtered and cooked for the feast, as well as a trio of pigs and a diverse array of wildfowl. Ganulan hired a family of Tal Alon from Hollyburrow to prepare the food, and Tyndal imported a stupefying quantity of liquor and wine for the occasion.
Men began showing up for the event just after Midsummer, some just having been released from medical care after the battle. Others were seeking new adventures after the excitement of the raid, or were headed to Sevendor to look for employment or position. By the day of the feast there were just over seventy veterans of Olum Seheri who were present.
Sire Cei the Dragonslayer presided. As Head of the Order, he was universally acclaimed as the epitome of arcane chivalry. The tale of his vengeful attack on Sheruel had spread quickly beyond the comrades who’d witnessed the feat, and had grown in the telling to near-legendary status.
Many of the veterans of the Wilderlands Campaign that had culminated at Timberwatch were there – the original knights magi. We sat a special table near the front, where Cei, Rondal, Tyndal, and Festaran, the founding members of the order, were seated.
Festaran looked . . . challenged. I’d grown used to the lad’s cheerful face and easy humor around Sevendor.
After a few weeks of errantry, some of that was replaced by a seriousness and even anxiety that I was unused to seeing in him. He didn’t relate much about where he’d gone and what he’d been doing when I greeted him, but it was clear he’d had an adventure or two. Nor was he done with his errantry. From what he did say, he was still involved in some business that needed resolution.
“You know, Dara was quite upset when she discovered you left,” I mentioned, quietly.
“I have heard,” he nodded, troubled. “It disturbed my heart to know I had brought her such disquiet, at first. Particularly after how she reacted to Gareth’s absence.
“But you were right, Excellency,” he sighed. “Despite my experience with duty, I begin to see how it is the experience with errantry that truly gives a man’s honor depth. Until he is forced to be reliant only on his wits, his honor and his sword, he knows not what kind of man he is.”
“So, you have reconsidered your plan to ask Dara to wed?”
“I’ve . . . decided to postpone that kind of commitment awhile, yet,” he said, diplomatically. “Until things are . . . more settled.”
I didn’t ask him what he meant by that, largely because I didn’t really want to hear the answer. I merely clapped him on the shoulder, thanked him for his service, and commended him on his dedication. I resolved not to mention the meeting to Dara unless she brought it up.
Sire Cei looked every inch the senior valiant Wilderlands knight in a beautifully embroidered cloak over his best tunic. He mingled with the crowd, greeting nearly everyone before settling down to his prominent place at the high table, where he called the meeting to order.
“My lords, today we celebrate the increase in the Estasi Order’s membership as we welcome new brothers in chivalry into our ranks,” he began in his stately, commanding voice. “When Sirs Tyndal and Rondal proposed such a thing, I was skeptical,” he admitted. “Were there really those in the world who shared our vision of combining the best of chivalry and the arcane? Those who would hold themselves to the highest standards of both, and use that great and ferocious power for the betterment of himself, his people, and his kingdom?” he asked, rhetorically, as he addressed the men.
“I am pleased and humbled today to admit my skepticism was misplaced,” he continued. “I saw feats of bravery and daring at Olum Seheri that put our noble ancestors to shame. Valor was as thick in the air as the eternal fogs of that foul place, and heroism ran as freely as the blood of our foes. Though we mourn the valiant dead who did not return, we revere the memory of that valor by upholding the ideals of the noble warrior. By committing ourselves to this institution and adhering to its precepts we ensure that their sacrifice is not in vain.”
Cei was a good speaker, particularly in this element. I was impressed. Though his Wilderlands brogue was still thick on his tongue, he spoke clearly and passionately, enunciating each word and sentence with purpose and meaning. It gave me a little clearer understanding of why knights held such social power in our society. Sire Cei had a way of elevating how you felt about yourself just by being in his presence. Me, I bribe a lot of people.
The first order of business was inducting the old guard who attended into the order: Astyral, Wenek, Azar, Rustallo, Mavone, Taren, Landrik, Bendonal, and the others who’d been fighting this war for years, now. Including me, I discovered.
Each of us was presented with a dark blue cloak with light blue lining, a gold signet ring, and an ornate dagger with the crest of the order on the hilt. The daggers were Dradrien make, I saw from the distinctive wavy pattern in the steel. I supposed Tyndal had made good use of his three dwarves before they went to Vanador.
Then the existing knights – about a score, in all – who had developed their native Talent enough to excel at Olum Seheri, were officially inducted, and given the tokens of their office.
Lastly, nearly fifty common warmagi were brought up in lots of ten, and between Sire Cei and I we knighted the lot of them, while musicians played quietly in the background. We each tried to pick out one or two in each lot to commend publicly for their valor or honor, giving a little story or insight about the new knight.
Some of these men, like me, were commoners. For a few, Talent had been a means to escape the plow or shovel, the two tools every villein had too much familiarity with. To become a warmage from those humble beginnings, and then for demonstrated valor be knighted and commended in front of your professional peers was overwhelming for some of these men. I could empathize – if I hadn’t been so amazed at being alive after Timberwatch, I probably would have wept, myself.
Sire Cei ended the ceremony with an admonition for each of the men to undertake a feat of errantry toward the common good and enrichment of the Kingdom. Sir Rondal followed by revealing a large – and blank – book of leather-bound parchment stamped with the device of the Order.
“My fellow knights,” he said in his clear tenor voice, “I charge you each to return to Taragwen, or what chapterhouses we establish, and inscribe in this book the details of your errantry. Your ambitions, how you were introduced to your quest, how you accomplished – or didn’t – that mission, and the lessons you learned along that quest.
“The purpose of this order has ever been to see the best aspirations of chivalry, the commitment to service of our entire society, put to purpose. Inspired by the example of Minalan the Spellmonger, foremost wizard of the age, we felt compelled that cold night a few years ago to establish some way to take this great power and great desire to improve our world.
“We subsequently contested with the Brotherhood of the Rat, our enemy, and then escalated to move against the lair of the great foe: Olum Seheri. Your valiant sacrifice and commitment to those ideals put you all to the test. A challenge you met, and triumphed over.
As you continue on your errantry bearing the arms of the order, carry also that great charge: to ever serve humanity with your might.”
Tyndal was next, with his charge. He lurched to the front of the high table, gave a flamboyant bow, and then addressed the assembled. He looked quite dashing in his rich blue mantle, thrown rakishly over his shoulder, and managed to speak intelligently for being that drunk.
“My lords, during our discussions about how we wanted the order to be celebrated, we decided that next year we should have a college of errants gather here, or at their chapterhouse, in which we may feast each other our victories and drink our defeats; where we shall celebrate our valor, and present our honor for inspection to our chivalric peers.
“This college shall be in autumn, two weeks after Huin’s Day,” he announced. “Attendance is voluntary; but it will be a good feed, almost as good as this one,” he said, to cheers. I had to admit, the food had been wonderful.
Sir Festaran spoke next, looking a bit overwhelmed by the mass of warriors assembled, and clearly questioning his fitness for inclusion. But with an assuring nod from Sire Cei, the young Riverlord took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and proceeded with grace.
“When discussing the ideals for the order,” he began, in a voice that got stronger as he spoke, “we knew it needed to epitomize chivalry, of course, but it also needed to address the special circumstances of a knight who has rajira,” he said, looking out over the feasting warriors. “The knight mage, we decided, has especial purpose in our world. A man who has, ideally, developed the courage and honor and special skills of a knight, yet who has also tamed his own magic and developed it to its ability.
“It is an ideal that seeks to reward not only brave deeds, but also cunning insight in the pursuit of our errantry. My own limited experience with magic has shown me new realms of possibilities. I have seen, through magic’s aide parts of this world I had no idea even existed. And it has challenged me to use what wit and intellect I have to reason through problems other knights would draw sword to hack through.
Necromancer: Book Ten Of The Spellmonger Series Page 94
